


The Arrival

by days_of_storm



Series: Vignettes on Ice [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Retelling, Yuuri's POV, same universe as "Beginnings", warning: changes to the timeline/order of events have been made for the sake of storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm
Summary: This is my retelling of parts of E1 and E2. It's in the same universe as Beginnings, which had Victor's POV. The idea to continue but from Yuuri's POV nagged me for a while so I wrote it.I might write more and make a series of vignettes like this; just scenes explored in more depth. We'll see.Anyhow, thanks for dropping by and reading <3_____________________________________________________________________________Warning: I've written this and the other stories with changes to the canonical timelines and occasionally even the order of events to fit my narrative and the character development. So please be aware that I am not necessarily sticking to the timeline in the series!





	The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mazarin221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/gifts).



> This is my retelling of parts of E1 and E2. It's in the same universe as Beginnings, which had Victor's POV. The idea to continue but from Yuuri's POV nagged me for a while so I wrote it.  
> I might write more and make a series of vignettes like this; just scenes explored in more depth. We'll see.
> 
> Anyhow, thanks for dropping by and reading <3  
> _____________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Warning: I've written this and the other stories with changes to the canonical timelines and occasionally even the order of events to fit my narrative and the character development. So please be aware that I am not necessarily sticking to the timeline in the series!

Victor. Is. Here.

He gently pushed the poodle off his chest which had attacked him with kisses when he had opened the door to free the foot path of the unexpected April snow. 

Yuuri tried his hardest to keep his face from showing what he felt in this moment. He was confused, more than anything. Why? The question played on loop in his brain while he desperately searched for an answer. He couldn’t truly be here, could he? Was someone playing a cruel trick on him? Had he become the butt of one of Christophe’s famous practical jokes? Was Victor in Japan and just happened to have arrived in Hasetsu not knowing that Yuuri’s family owned the spa? His father had said a handsome foreigner had arrived with the dog and somehow Yuuri knew that it could only be Victor. And this dog, therefore, must be Makkachin.

He stared ahead, trying to eliminate the impossible. If he was here, he would see him sooner or later. He would have to talk to him. He would have to face the embarrassment of utter failure and live through his shame again. And all this while he wouldn’t be able to look at Victor without feeling his stomach churn and his heart ache. The feeling had become as familiar as breathing during world’s. Whenever he had so much as seen a glimpse of Victor, his hands had become sweaty and his heart had started to race. He knew he was borderline obsessive, but most of what he loved in life was connected to Victor. His motivation to skate had taken shape only when he had seen Victor skate. He had always worked to meet him on the ice; not as equals, but at least as part of the same group. His entire career he had worked up to this moment and then botched it so spectacularly. And he had wanted so badly for Victor to notice him. To see himself in him, just a little bit. To acknowledge the work he had done and to appreciate that he had been the inspiration for someone who managed to succeed. But Victor, if he had noticed him at all, had not seemed to care much. Not before the finale and certainly not after.

Except for that one tiny moment, at the airport after world’s and after the night he couldn’t remember, his headache and heartache had been so severe that when Victor had called out for him to take a picture, he had been afraid to throw up and made sure to disappear as quickly and quietly as he could. 

Regret had gnawed on him since that day and it had become a staple of the mess of feelings that arose in him whenever he thought of Victor. If only he had drunk just a little less. If only he could remember if he had made a fool of himself that night at the gala. If he would have been able to smile then and tell him that he had admired him since the day he had first seen a video of Victor skating, maybe it would have been easier. Maybe it would have given him closure instead of pain. 

And now those feelings bubbled up again, threatening to choke him. And he wasn’t even sure that he was really here. Here. _Here_. In his home. Where his childhood memories lived and posters of Victor covered his room. 

“He’s in the hot spring,” his father interrupted his thoughts with a wide smile, apparently entirely unaware of Yuuri’s inner turmoil. 

Oh. My. God. 

Yuuri blinked stupidly, feeling something new after the sickening and overpowering panic. Excitement. It was almost as bad as the former, and it made his stomach churn and his heart speed up just the same, but it was different after all. 

No matter how embarrassing it might be to have to face him, wondering if he would even recognise him with his floppy hair and his glasses and his increased weight, he would be able to look at him and be in the same room as him, and that, in itself, would make up for a large part of the negative aspects. 

He tried to get off the floor where he had landed when Makkachin had attacked him, and hurt his wrists in the process. The pain helped to clear his mind, and for a moment he remembered skating Victor’s programme. How good it had felt to imagine such self-confidence in him. How good it had been to become someone else for a while, someone who had achieved what no one else ever had and ever could. 

He dashed away, racing out of the house and into the neighbouring building next to the hot spring. His glasses fogged over and he still wore his large winter coat. He was hot all over.

Victor. Was naked. In his Onsen. Naked. Victor. 

In his dreams, Victor had always been dressed. He had worn extremely revealing costumes in some and in others he had worn too large training clothes which had revealed a slither of skin when he jumped or a naked shoulder when his sweater had slipped off it. But he had never dreamt of him naked. He had never quite dared to go there, fearing that he would overstep a professional boundary somehow and that he would never be able to look at Victor without blushing.

When he saw him, his heart stopped right in his tracks. Victor eyes were closed and he was sitting with the water almost up to his chest. 

He was conflicted. Everything about this situation was awkward. He was fully dressed while Victor was naked. He was an almost unknown figure skater with a career that had failed to ever really take off while Victor was the best skater in the world. He was an overweight, nerdy boy who looked younger than he was while Victor was … well, a man. Yuuri felt the heat in his cheeks intensify. 

When Victor opened his eyes just a second after Yuuri had arrived at the bath, he immediately plucked the towel from his head and rose. Yuuri couldn’t look away no matter how everything in him told him that it was the right thing to do. The respectful thing. 

He stared at Victor’s perfect body. He was so strong, he would easily be able to lift Yuuri and carry him across the ice. His nipples were pink with heat and his cock … Yuuri dragged his eyes up to Victor’s face, blinking hard, trying to keep from blushing even more furiously, although he knew it was a lost case. When Victor reached out a hand to point at him across the water and declared that he would be his coach, Yuuri was sure he was hallucinating. He must have hit his head earlier when he had fallen to the floor, or he wasn’t really awake yet and all of this was a cruel, cruel dream that would break his heart when he woke up. 

But Yuuri stared on, speechless, his mind racing. And Victor remained where he was, standing in the fog, with snow softly drifting down on him, like a nymph, naked, wet, and gloriously self-confident, and yet fragile somehow. As if what he saw was a facade and the person behind it was just as unsure what to do now that Yuuri did not react. 

He needed to push his fingernails of his thumbs into the soft side of his index fingers before he could muster the courage to speak. “There are towels over there, if you need a new one.”

Victor’s benevolent expression remained chiselled on his face, but his eyes spoke a different language. Yuuri couldn’t bear to disappoint him, so he wiped at his glasses with the sleeve of his coat which had become wet with snow and the humidity of the spring. It made it harder for him to see and he was glad for it, because he knew he wouldn’t stand another second staring at Victor without taking in all of his body. 

He knew that this meeting would change his dreams and that there was no going back now. He knew what he looked like naked and every outline of muscle under his shirts or costumes now had their counterpart in skin colour. When his breathing turned funny, he turned around and walked away. 

“Wait, Yuuri,” Victor called after him. He sounded less confident than he had, and Yuuri walked faster. When Victor had caught up with him he wore a towel around his waist and he did not refuse when Yuuri handed him one of the moss green robes their guests used. Wordlessly, they walked back into the main building where his mother excitedly chattered away while she forced Victor to sit down and have a meal. 

Yuuri hid in the kitchen for a bit, pretending to help with the washing up, but he knew his sister did not want him there and that he should be shovelling snow. His heart hadn’t stopped racing and he was sweating, even though he had taken his winter coat off. When he walked out, he found Victor stretching and yawning widely and for the first time in his life, Yuuri saw the vulnerable, sleepy side of Victor. A jetlagged person, not a superstar. 

Before he had the chance to apologise for his rudeness, Victor lay down right there between the tables and fell asleep. It was as if within the span of half an hour, all of Yuuri’s fantasies had become reality. Victor, lying on the floor, cuddling his dog close, with the robe barely covering his shoulders and the nape of his neck. He was breathtakingly beautiful like this and Yuuri felt his heart slow down a little. He was filled with affection for the sleeping man and the urge to run his finger along the soft skin of his neck was almost overpowering. When Minako loudly entered the room, he was ripped out his thoughts and he prayed that his feelings wouldn’t show on his face. 

And just when he thought she would offer distraction, she made it all worse. 

“He chose you! He is here for you!”

But he doesn’t know me, Yuuri thought wildly. He couldn’t possibly have done this. He had no reason to. They hadn’t so much as had a proper conversation in their life. No memories together. No real reason to come all the way to a tiny town in Japan and offer his services as a coach. 

The video. Minako had mentioned the video. Had Victor seen it? Oh god. 

The next hour passed without him being able to properly process what had happened. He stared at Victor and only stopped when his mother nudged him and gave him the widest smile. He was about to apologise for day-dreaming when Victor woke up, the robe slipping off his shoulder. The image burned itself into Yuuri’s memory and he knew he would never forget this day, no matter what would happen. 

Before he could start worrying about what the future would actually bring, and how Victor would react to the rejection of his offer, Victor demanded to know about his favourite food. Before he knew it, Victor was already demanding that he stop overeating and that he should lose weight and get fit again. When his sister complained about Victor’s luggage being in the way, and Victor explained in no uncertain terms that he was practically moving in, Yuuri knew that he wouldn’t have the heart to say no to him. He knew Victor was manipulating him, but somehow he couldn’t blame him or feel unfairly treated. Something in him was glad that he wasn’t given a choice.

When Victor placed his hand under his chin and brought up his face because Yuuri had been avoiding looking at him, he thought he might pass out. When he took his hand and asked him about former lovers, Yuuri was sure that Victor had lost his mind. That would explain everything. His presence. His sudden interest in Yuuri. The naked stunt in the Onsen. The nap on the restaurant floor. His obsession with Yuuri’s favourite food. The fact that he seemed to have sent all of his clothes and half of his furniture to Hasetsu.

Yuuri rushed out of the room and disappeared, telling himself he was giving Victor space when he was really hiding from his intensity. As if being too close to Victor might burn him.

He brushed his teeth, dead tired from feeling so much, while he looked at himself in the mirror and wondered what Victor could have possibly seen in him that had made him decide to come here and be his coach. It would mean giving up his own career for him and that was almost the hardest to bear. His failure would be Victor’s failure and he would regret ever coming here and the smile would go from his eyes and Yuuri would become invisible again. 

He almost cried when he changed into his pyjamas.

And then the knocking came. 

“Open the door Yuuri. Let’s sleep together.”

Yuuri was close to laughing hysterically, because what Victor was proposing was preposterous and oh so appealing. He had no idea what was going on, but only a minute ago he had decided to just roll with it and now Victor was banging on his door to be let in. To sleep with him.

In the same room, Yuuri chided his own imaginative mind. Surely, he meant that he wanted to sleep in the same room to pick his brains about skating, but what he said was different and it made Yuuri very uncomfortable for a whole lot of reasons. 

He locked the door and, without thinking, he began tearing the posters down, fumbling with photos and newspaper cut-outs, with keychains and other merchandise he had collected of him. The skate guards he had bought on ebay for a charity event, having spent almost all of the prize money from a national competition. He opened his closet and pushed everything inside, realising too late that he was creasing the posters he had so carefully and gently pressed to the walls when he had first hung them up. His fingers shook when he held them above his collection, afraid to cause further damage, driven by the horror of the idea of Victor possibly seeing his room. 

He sat back on his heels and looked around himself. Some traces of blue tack and power strips still gave away the recent assault on his walls, but at least Victor’s face had disappeared from view. 

To be replaced with the real thing. 

A fairy prince. A king. Ariel and Prospero as one. 

With a huff, he dragged his eyes away from the copy of _The Tempest_ he had been staring at and looked up at the ceiling, sending a prayer for strength to his ancestors. 

Victor was here and he was going to be his coach. He was here for him. Because of him. And no matter the reason, he wanted to stay and actually go through with it.

Yuuri curled into a ball in his bed and hid his face behind his hands. After a few moments of fighting down tears, he allowed himself to relax a little and to let go of all the confusion and anxiety he had felt during the day. And what was left was something new. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Happiness.


End file.
